Top Wild Love Quotes

Browse top 198 famous quotes and sayings about Wild Love by most favorite authors.

Favorite Wild Love Quotes

51. "Mother, monogamy, romance. High spurts the fountain; fierce and foamy the wild jet. The urge has but a single outlet. My love, my baby. No wonder those poor pre-moderns were mad and wicked and miserable. Their world didn't allow them to take things easily, didn't allow them to be sane, virtuous, happy. What with mothers and lovers, what with the prohibitions they were not conditioned to obey, what with the temptations and the lonely remorses, what with all the diseases and the endless isolating pain, what with the uncertainties and the poverty—they were forced to feel strongly. And feeling strongly (and strongly, what was more, in solitude, in hopelessly individual isolation), how could they be stable?"
Author: Aldous Huxley
52. "Spring is super in the supermarketsand the strawberries prance and glownever mind that they're all kinda tart and tastelessas strawberries gomeanwhile wild things are not for saleanymore than they are for showso i'll be outside, in love with the kind of beautyit takes more than eyes to know"
Author: Ani DiFranco
53. "And that heart which was a wild garden was given to him who loved only trim lawns. And the imbecile carried away the princess into slavery."
Author: Antoine De Saint Exupéry
54. "Lara walked along the tracks following a path worn by pilgrims and then turned into the fields. Here she stopped and, closing her eyes, took a deep breath of the flower-scented air of the broad expanse around her. It was dearer to her than her kin, better than a lover, wiser than a book. For a moment she rediscovered the purpose of her life. She was here on earth to grasp the meaning of its wild enchantment and to call each thing by its right name, or, if this were not within her power, to give birth out of love for life to successors who would do it in her place."
Author: Boris Pasternak
55. "It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day-A sunny day with the leaves just turning,The touch-lines new-ruled - since I watched you playYour first game of fotball, then, like a satelliteWrenched from its orbit, go drifting awayBehind a scatter of boys. I can seeYou walking away from me towards the schoolwith the pathos of a half-fledged thing set freeInto a wilderness, the gait of oneWho finds no path where the path should be.That hesitant figure, eddying awayLike a winged seed loosened from its parent stem,Has something I never quite grasp to conveyAbout nature's give-and-take - the small, the scorchingOrdeals which fire one's irresolute clay.I had worse partings, but none that soGnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughlySaying what God alone could perfectly show-How selfhood begins with a walking away,And love proved in the letting go."
Author: C. Day Lewis
56. "His lips,his soft and amazing lips, touch mine and the world spins with a different kind of magic. This kind isn't evil or hard, but lovely and wild, and I melt into it. He melts into it too, I can tell. I can feel how much he loves me just but the touch of his lips. And it is a good love, a really good love."
Author: Carrie Jones
57. "Down the violet wind slid syrinx melodies, wild as foxes, mad as love, strange as wakening."
Author: Cecilia Dart Thornton
58. "This night is not calm; the equinox still struggles in its storms. The wild rains of the day are abated; the great single cloud disparts and rolls away from heaven, not passing and leaving a sea all sapphire, but tossed buoyant before a continued, long-sounding, high-rushing moonlight tempest. The Moon reigns glorious, glad of the gale, as glad as if she gave herself to his fierce caress with love. No Endymion will watch for his goddess tonight. there are no flocks out on the mountains; and it is well, for to-night she welcomes Aeolus."
Author: Charlotte Brontë
59. "But I liked Yeats! That wild Irishman. I really loved his love of language, his flow. His chaotic ideas seemed to me just the right thing for a poet. Passion! He was always on the right side. He may be wrongheaded, but his heart was always on the right side. He wrote beautiful poetry."
Author: Chinua Achebe
60. "As surely as I feel love and need for food and water, I feel love and need for God. But these feelings have nothing to do with Supramundane Males planning torments for those who don't abide by neocon "moral values." I hold the evangelical truth of our situation to be that contemporary politicized fundamentalists, including first and foremost those aimed at Empire and Armageddon, need us non-fundamentalists, mystics, ecosystem activists, unprogrammable artists, agnostic humanitarians, incorrigible writers, truth-telling musicians, incorruptible scientists, organic gardeners, slow food farmers, gay restaurateurs, wilderness visionaries, pagan preachers of sustainability, compassion-driven entrepreneurs, heartbroken Muslims, grief-stricken children, loving believers, loving disbelievers, peace-marching millions, and the One who loves us all in such a huge way that it is not going too far to say: they need us for their salvation."
Author: David James Duncan
61. "I love Billy Wilder, and I love the way that his films can be very touching and very moving and very romantic, and at the same time there's always a little cynical undertone, there's always something that undercuts things."
Author: David Nicholls
62. "God seems to far away.Does He? Have you noted the splendid display of wildflowers? Have you listened to a child's laughter or watched a sunrise or a sunset? Have you seen peace on a person's face when they should be miserable?I want that for you. I want you to be able to face very moment of the day knowing God loves you."
Author: DiAnn Mills
63. "The spelling and handwriting were those of a man imperfectly educated, but still the language itself was forcible. In the expressions of endearment there was a kind of rough, wild love; but here and there were dark unintelligible hints at some secret not of love,----some secret that seemed of crime. "We ought to love each other," was one of the sentences I remember, "for how everyone else would execrate us if all was known." Again: "Don't let anyone be in the same room with you at night,----you talk in your sleep." And again: "What's done can't be undone; and I tell you there's nothing against us unless the dead could come to life." Here there was underlined in a better handwriting (a female's), "They do!"
Author: Edward Bulwer Lytton
64. "Those who wish to pet and baby wild animals 'love' them. But those who respect their natures and wish to let them live normal lives, love them more."
Author: Edwin Way Teale
65. "I love physical comedy. I love Oscar Wilde, I love Shakespeare comedies, I love improv."
Author: Elizabeth Banks
66. "Sometimes love started with bewildering passion and then grew deeper through friendship; sometimes it started with deep friendship and surprised everybody-especially the two "best friends-with it's sudden romantic fire. Either way, love seemed both meant to be and a miracle."
Author: Elizabeth Chandler
67. "If I had my wilderness, nature could be my lover. What can I do in the paved streets for my thirsty roots? I waste time. I encourage fools. I slip the vital hours into penny slot machines -- to pass time, to start my stuck wheels only love can oil."
Author: Elizabeth Smart
68. "To be commanded to love God at all, let alone in the wilderness, is like being commanded to be well when we are sick, to sing for joy when we are dying of thirst, to run when our legs are broken. But this is the first and great commandment nonetheless. Even in the wilderness - especially in the wilderness - you shall love him."
Author: Frederick Buechner
69. "Upset by two nostalgias facing each other like two mirrors, he lost his marvelous sense of unreality and he ended up recommending to all of them that they leave Macondo, that they forget everything he had taught them about the world and the human heart, that they shit on Horace, and that wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end. A"
Author: Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez
70. "When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean,And billows wild contend with angry roar,'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion,That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore.Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth,And silver waves chime ever peacefully,And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er it flieth,Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.So to the heart that knows Thy love, O Purest,There is a temple sacred evermore,And all the babble of life's angry voicesDies in hushed silence at its peaceful door.Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth,And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully,And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er it flieth,Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in Thee."
Author: Harriet Beecher Stowe
71. "Now a door slams. The kids have rushed out for the last play, the mothers are planning and slamming in kitchens, you can hear it out in swish leaf orchards, on popcorn swings, in the million-foliaged sweet wafted night of sighs, songs, shushes. A thousand things up and down the street, deep, lovely, dangerous, aureating, breathing, throbbing like stars; a whistle, a faint yell; the flow of lowell over rooftops beyond; the bark on the river, the wild goose of the night yakking, ducking in the sand and sparkle; the ululating lap and purl and lovely mystery on the shore, dark, always dark the river's cunning unseen lips murmuring kisses, eating night, stealing sand, sneaky."
Author: Jack Kerouac
72. "8 April 1891The obscenity of nostrils and mouths; the ignominious cupidity of smiles and women encountered in the street; the shifty baseness on every side, as of hyenas and wild beasts ready to bite: tradesmen in their shops and strollers on their pavements. How long must I suffer this? I have suffered it before, as a child, when, descending by chance to the servant's quarters, I overheard in astonishment their vile gossip, tearing up my own kind with their lovely teeth.This hostility to the entire race, this muted detestation of lynxes in human form, I must have rediscovered it later while at school. I had a repugnance and horror for all base instincts, but am I not myself instinctively violent and lewd, murderous and sensual? Am I any different, in essence, from the members of the riotous and murderous mob of a hundred years ago, who hurled the town sergeants into the Seine and cried, 'String up the aristos!' just as they shout 'Down with the army!' or 'Death to the Jews!"
Author: Jean Lorrain
73. "Amy Martin (ladysky) and Daniel Baciagalupo had a month to spend on Charlotte Turner's island in Georgian Bay; it was their wilderness way of getting to know each other before their life together in Toronto began. We don't always have a choice how we get to know one another. Sometimes, people fall into our lives cleanly--as if out of the sky, or as if there were a direct flight from Heaven to Earth--the same sudden way we lose people, who once seemed they would always be part of our lives. Little Joe was gone, but not a day passed in Daniel Baciagalupo's life when Joe wasn't loved or remembered. The cook had been murdered in his bed, but Dominic Baciagalupo had had the last laugh on the cowboy. Ketchum's left hand would lvie forever in Twisted River, and Six-Pack had known what to do with the rest of her old friend"
Author: John Irving
74. "Softly the breezes from the forest came,Softly they blew aside the taper's flame;Clear was the song from Philomel's far bower;Grateful the incense from the lime-tree flower;Mysterious, wild, the far-heard trumpet's tone;Lovely the moon in ether, all alone:Sweet too, the converse of these happy mortals,As that of busy spirits when the portalsAre closing in the west; or that soft hummingWe hear around when Hesperus is coming.Sweet be their sleep."
Author: John Keats
75. "[The wilderness] had caressed him, and—lo!—he had withered; it had taken him, loved him, embraced him, got into his veins, consumed his flesh, and sealed his soul to its own by the inconceivable ceremonies of some devilish initiation."
Author: Joseph Conrad
76. "Dearest, your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours. In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die--die, sweetly die--into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty, which yet is love; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit."
Author: Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
77. "I've loved you my whole life, Chas, from that first day you took me home after Michelle died. And I'm terrified you'll leave me or you'll stop loving me or even worse, something will happen to you. But I can't be without you anymore." He takes my hands, which are shaking wildly, and swallows."Today I watched Mike give away the woman he loves. I can't do that, Chas. I thought I could, I thought it would be better if you were with someone else, but I was wrong. And I swear to you, I will love you the rest of my life and nothing will ever come before you. Please, Chastity. Forgive me and marry me and have a bunch of babies with me, and I'll-"
Author: Kristan Higgins
78. "Who the hell calls at two in the morning?""Maybe it's Matt Wilde, confessing his love," Lindsay says."Very funny,"
Author: Lauren Oliver
79. "It's an act of our will to choose to see people simply as wildly loved by God, to assume their beauty before guessing their depravity."
Author: Mary E. DeMuth
80. "The Other Side of a Mirror I sat before my glass one day,And conjured up a vision bare,Unlike the aspects glad and gay,That erst were found reflected there -The vision of a woman, wildWith more than womanly despair.Her hair stood back on either sideA face bereft of loveliness.It had no envy now to hideWhat once no man on earth could guess.It formed the thorny aureoleOf hard, unsanctified distress.Her lips were open - not a soundCame though the parted lines of red,Whate'er it was, the hideous woundIn silence and secret bled.No sigh relieved her speechless woe,She had no voice to speak her dread.And in her lurid eyes there shoneThe dying flame of life's desire,Made mad because its hope was gone,And kindled at the leaping fireOf jealousy and fierce revenge,And strength that could not change nor tire.Shade of a shadow in the glass,O set the crystal surface free!Pass - as the fairer visions pass -Nor ever more return, to beThe ghost of a distracted hour,That heard me whisper: - 'I am she!"
Author: Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
81. "He pushed my back against the stall door, kissing me. Edward had tried kissing me, but I'd been so shocked I'd barely had time to explore how it felt. Lucy had told me stories of shady corners and sweaty palms. But this was passionate. Wild. Something I'd never known. "Have you kissed a girl before?" I whispered. HE ran his thumb over my cheek. His eyes lingered on my lips. "Yes," he said. I thought of Alice, her pretty blonde hair, the split lip that made her so vulnerable. But it wasn't her name he said. "A woman at the docks in Brisbane. She didn't mean anything. I was lonely. It wasn't love." A prostitute, he meant."
Author: Megan Shepherd
82. "Or maybe he just rediscovered his humanity," Niten said quietly. "Maybe someone reminded him that he is human first, immortal second.""You said as if you are speaking from personal experience," Perenelle said.""I am," he said softly. "There was a time when I was . . . wild.""What happened?"He smiled. "I met a redheaded Irish warrior.""And fell in love?" she teased."I didn't say that.""You didn't have to."
Author: Michael Scott
83. "But do not ask the price I pay,I must live with my quiet rageTame the ghosts in my headThat run wild and wish me deadShould you shake my ash to the windLord, forget all of my sinsOh, let me die where I lieNeath the curse of my lover's eyes."
Author: Mumford And Sons
84. "She was filled with a strange, wild, unfamiliar happiness, and knew that this was love. Twice in her life she had mistaken something else for it; it was like seeing somebody in the street who you think is a friend, you whistle and wave and run after him, but it is not only not the friend, but not even very like him. A few minutes later the real friend appears in view, and then you can't imagine how you ever mistook that other person for him."
Author: Nancy Mitford
85. "You're Beautiful Like the green romance of a budand lily's pink, gentle sway.You: more beautiful than yesterday. Wildflower's blue surprise.Daisy's white, sunny play.You're more beautiful than yesterday. Orchid's purple mysteryMum's bronze ole`You: more beautiful than yesterday.Rose's orange perfume,even tulip's yellow secrets say:You're more beautiful that yesterday.Poppy's red, teasing lips,but YOUR beauty will never fade. You: more lovely than yesterday,You: my dazzling bouquet."
Author: Pat Mora
86. "ERANNA TO SAPPHOO You wild adept at throwing!Like a spear by other things, I'd lainthere beside my next of kin. Your strainflung me far. To where's beyond my knowing.None can bring me back again.Sisters think upon me as they twine,and the house is full of warm relation.I alone am out of the design,and I tremble like a supplication;for the lovely goddess all creationbowers in legend lives this life of mine.SAPPHO TO ERANNAWith unrest I want to inundate you,want to brandish you, you vine-wreathed stave.Want, like death itself, to penetrate youand to pass you onwards like the graveto the All: to all these things that wait you."
Author: Rainer Maria Rilke
87. "As time went by, I realized that the particular place I'd chose was less important than the fact that I'd chosen a place and focused my life around it. Although the island has taken on great significance for me, it's no more inherently beautiful or meaningful than any other place on earth. What makes a place special is the way it buries itself inside the heart, not whether it's flat or rugged, rich or austere. wet or arid, gentle or harsh, warm or cold, wild or tame. Every place, like every person, is elevated by the love and respect shown toward it, and by the way in which its bounty is received."
Author: Richard Nelson
88. "We have gone far in our public places to push death aside, to consign it to a dusty corner, but in the wilderness it is ever present. It is the lover who makes life. The sensuous, entwined limbs of of predator and prey, the orgasmic death cry, the final spasmodic rush of blood, and even the soundless insemination of the earth by the fallen tree and crumbling leaf; these are the caresses of life's beloved, the indispensable other."
Author: Rick Yancey
89. "Jonathan Edwards, the dear old soul, who, if his doctrine is true, is now in heaven rubbing his holy hands with glee, as he hears the cries of the damned, preached this doctrine; and he said: 'Can the believing husband in heaven be happy with his unbelieving wife in hell? Can the believing father in heaven be happy with his unbelieving children in hell? Can the loving wife in heaven be happy with her unbelieving husband in hell?' And he replies: 'I tell you, yea. Such will be their sense of justice, that it will increase rather than diminish their bliss.' There is no wild beast in the jungles of Africa whose reputation would not be tarnished by the expression of such a doctrine.These doctrines have been taught in the name of religion, in the name of universal forgiveness, in the name of infinite love and charity."
Author: Robert G. Ingersoll
90. "I was not brought up to know the Earth in intimate detail. No one I can remember from my childhood ever suggested that the land I lived on and was surrounded by contained anything important to me. My sense of kinship was connected to my house, my bedroom (my one almost personal space), my family, and my friends. I had no conscious sense of connection to the wild; the closest I came was that I deeply loved the trees in our small suburban backyard."
Author: Robin Rose Bennett
91. "If Sean's voice is layers of wood, and Mina Ma's is the voice a copper pot, then Mathew Mercer's is the voice of a wild animal. I suddenly think of a movie Ammara and I loved when we were little, and I think of Scar, the lion who murdered his brother to become king. That kind of voice."
Author: Sangu Mandanna
92. "Wrong Question: How to love?Right Question: Why am I afraid to love?Wrong Question: Why do you love me?Right Question: Do I love myself as much as you do?Wrong Question: Why does love hurt?Right Question: Why do I live in fantasies and expect so much without really giving anything back?Wrong Question: What will you do for me?Right Question: Am I capable of making your life more beautiful?Wrong interpretation: Let's be practical.Right interpretation: Let's be wild and unconditional in our love without pretending.Wrong Confession: I want love in life.Right Confession: I am lonely and I will start by being friendly with myself first.Wrong Advice: Mind and ThoughtsRight Advice: Heart"
Author: Saurabh Sharma
93. "This is the swamp as I see it, but what I can't capture on canvas is you as I see you. No brush or paint will ever show the hero that you are. It will never be able to portray the sound of your voice when you whisper my name. The way my skin tingles when you touch me. The passion of you inside me. I love you, Talon. I know that I can't keep you. No one can ever tame a wild beast. You have a job to do and so do I. I only hope that when you think of me, it'll bring a smile to your face. Love always, Sunshine. (Sunshine's note)"
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon
94. "Wild as you are, all that love you must love you still."
Author: Sophocles
95. "Her heart nearly burst as she at last plunged into his embrace in one wild rush, screaming out her need, her love, her completion, wanting only to know his name so she might give everything of herself to him. His glowing smile was for her and her alone. His lips were for her and her alone. She closed that last bit of space toward him, longing to at last kiss the love of her life, the mate to her soul, the one and only true passion in all of life. His lips were there, at last, she fell into his outstretched arms, into his embrace, into his perfect kiss.In that flawless instant when her lips were just touching his, she saw through him, just beyond him, the merciless unyeilding valley floor hurtling up toward her, and she knew at last his name.Death."
Author: Terry Goodkind
96. "My last refuge, my books: simple pleasures, like finding wild onions by the side of a road, or requited love."
Author: Tracy Letts
97. "But you can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky."
Author: Truman Capote
98. "I love travelling and going on wildlife safaris. I have an interest in astronomy. I like reading on current affairs, business and science. I love doing nothing if I can help it."
Author: Viswanathan Anand
99. "Beyond the tilled plain, beyond the toy roofs, there would be a low suffusion of inutile loveliness, a low sun in a platinum haze with a warm, peeled-peach tinge pervading the upper edge of a two-dimensional, dove-grey cloud fusing with the distant amorous mist. there might be a line of spaced trees silhouetted against the horizon, and hot still noons above a wilderness of clover, and claude lorrain clouds inscribed remotely into misty azure with only their cumulus part conscpicuous against the neutral swoon of the background. or again, it might be a stern el greco horizon, pregnant with inky rain, and a passing glimpse of some mummy-necked farmer, and all around alternating strips of quick-silverish water and harsh green corn, the whole arrangement opening like a fan, somewhere in kansas."
Author: Vladimir Nabokov
100. "Edain came out of Midhir's hill, and layBeside young Aengus in his tower of glass,Where time is drowned in odour-laden windsAnd Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,And sleepy boughs, and boughs where apples madeOf opal and ruhy and pale chrysoliteAwake unsleeping fires; and wove seven strings,Sweet with all music, out of his long hair,Because her hands had been made wild by love.When Midhir's wife had changed her to a fly,He made a harp with Druid apple-woodThat she among her winds might know he wept;And from that hour he has watched over noneBut faithful lovers."
Author: W.B. Yeats

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Imagine your kid is running into the street and you have to sprint after her in bare feet," Eric told me when I picked up my training with him after my time with Ken. "You'll automatically lock into perfect form--you'll be up on your forefeet, with your back erect, head steady, arms high, elbows driving, and feet touching down quickly on the forefoot and kicking back toward your butt."You can't run uphill powerfully with poor biomechanics," Eric explained."
Author: Christopher McDougall

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